


In the beginning there was

by inanhourofdreaming



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:32:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanhourofdreaming/pseuds/inanhourofdreaming
Summary: One way Jack and MacGyver could have met.Army-era. AU-ish.





	In the beginning there was

The first time Jack met Mac, there were bullets flying and Jack was crawling in sand, sweat and the sun burning his eyes. Jack’s Delta team had been sent to pull out some bomb tech who’d managed to get grabbed mid-mission and all Jack was really thinking about was keeping his team from dying in the sand and hoping the tech had managed to disarm whatever device was threatening to blow. He had a great team but man, it wasn’t looking good for this guy. They’d spotted at least 14 enemy combatants wandering around the premises.

His team was in formation, approaching the building at a slow crawl, trying to keep cover where cover could be had — in the fucking desert, there ain’t much — when smoke started spilling out of the windows. He heard panicked yells and figured well, fuck — he’d had a good run, but if he was gonna go, doing it on a rescue mission would at least guarantee him a good eulogy. 

Except instead of going out in a blaze of glory, nothing happened except the yelling slowly dimming down to quiet and a shock of blond hair exiting the building, stumbling. The dude’s face was covered by some kind of jury-rigged mask and he’d obviously lost his helmet somewhere but the clothes were American military. Jack didn’t hesitate.

He called for cover and ran for blondie, who looked like he wasn’t gonna make it a whole lot farther than a few steps. The tech looked up, said “oh, good,” and then collapsed into him. Jack huffed with the strain of extra weight. 

“Hey kid, there still a bomb in there?” 

The guy laughed, sounding drunk. “Just the smoke bomb I just set off.”

“Why was the guy we sent in to disarm a bomb carrying a smoke bomb? Isn’t that kinda off brand?”

The guy squinted his eyes up at Jack from where he was leaning most of his body weight. Kid was not a lightweight. “I wasn’t!” Then the whole upper half of his face not covered by his mask crinkles with a grin. “They just left me too close to the parts.” He said in an exaggerated whisper. “I knocked them out with the gas.” He fumbled for the mask he’d made and pulled it off.

Fuck, the boy was beautiful and still grinning the kind of bright smile that did not belong in a desert like this. And young. He couldn’t be more than 20. He had a black eye, and a few cuts on his face, but didn’t look like he had any major injuries. He was also very clearly affected by whatever smoke he’d used to knock out a building full of terrorists. Jack ignored the rest and focused on that part.

“Kid, you gonna be ok? You had to have inhaled some of that stuff. You ain’t gonna fall dead on me, are ya?”

“Nope,” the boy slurred. “Just sleepy. And kind of dizzy. Hey, the ground isn’t moving right?” He asked, and then passed out.

Jack reconnected with his team and carried blondie back to his base, where he dropped him off with medic, explaining what had happened as best he could.

A week later, Jack was arguing with his superiors about the commendation they were insisting on putting in his record.

“Look, hoss, I said it already — I didn’t DO anything! The kid rescued himself, all I did was provide some well-timed transportation.”

Jack was all for getting every bit of what he’d earned, but this felt wrong and he didn’t like the idea of accepting praise he hadn’t bought and paid for somehow. 

No one listened, and he spent the next hour glaring angrily at the letter that had been put in his file. Well, fine. He’d have an IOU. He went to find out the name of the tech, which was improbably, ridiculously, Angus MacGyver. His mama must have been having some kind of craving.

He found the distinctive head of blond hair in front of a table, hunched over tinkering with some piece of machinery. 

“Looks like I owe you a rescue,” Jack said after watching him a minute.

Macgyver startled, his eyes shooting up to stare at Jack. 

Without the glaze of drugs, his eyes were sharp but he was still damned pretty, even with the remains of the black eye. His lips quirked in a half-smile.

“You’re the guy who carried me out,” he said warmly.

“Like a regular Disney princess,” Jack said, even though a fireman carry didn’t really qualify.

The kid, god help him, blushed. “Oh god, please tell me that didn’t really happen.”

“Don’t drug yourself next time and you might remember it. Being cradled in these arms is a magical experience.” Jack grinned. No harm in a little flirting. DADT meant no one really took him seriously.

The kid’s blush stayed but he grinned gamely back. “Sure, next time I have to knock out a bunch of terrorists using only two paperclips and the back end of someone else’s bomb, I’ll think of the magic of your arms.”

“The next time,” Jack said, ignoring the clench in his stomach that always came with wanting what he knew he couldn’t have, “I will be there to actually save you and there will be no need for smoke bombs made out of...sorry, kid, did you say paperclips?”

“You’d be surprised what you can do with a paperclip,” the kid shrugged. “But uh, thanks. I mean, really. I don’t think I was gonna be able to walk much further than out the door. I’m glad you were there.”

“Well, you took care of the hard part, _Angus_ ,” Jack grinned.

“Call me Mac, man. Angus is…” his face looked pained, which was really the only proper reaction for being called Angus, if you asked Jack. 

“Jack,” he returned. Then, “Anyway, Mac, I meant it...I don’t like having an IOU on my books, and I got a commendation letter in my file now I didn’t earn.”

Mac smiled again. “You _did_ save me.” He was still standing in front of whatever piece of machinery he’d been messing with but all his attention was staying with Jack. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Kid, you took out 14 enemy combatants with some paperclips _while being kept prisoner_. I don’t reckon carrying your pretty butt off into the sunset after really qualifies as a save.” Jack was an idiot and probably needed to stop calling this kid pretty out loud.

“Better than a face full of sand and no way home,” Mac said, mercifully ignoring Jack’s comments about his ass. “Counts, if you ask me.” He leaned against the table next to him, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Jack said. “I’m here _tellin’_ you next time you need backup, you got it.”

“I don’t know,” Mac said, smirking. “I do know an awful lot of ways to take out a guy with a paperclip. You might be waiting for a while.” He was a snarky little thing. Jack liked him.

Jack meets his eyes, serious, and against all reason charmed as hell. “Yeah, well. I’m persistent.”

 

The thing is, Jack meant it. He’s not good at unpaid debts. And Mac, well. Mac caught his attention. Jack started watching him working, bummed into his space when he’d had some spare time just to watch him work. The kid was brilliant. 

And he’s young. Too young for Jack, probably, but bright and burning with intelligence and too damn good to die out here. Jack is determined to make sure he doesn’t. So when he gets pulled by his CO during target practice with a mission and the man said “the tech guy said you’d want this one, Jack,” he knows Mac’s taking him seriously, too.

It felt maybe kinda good, Mac taking his promise seriously. 

Mac grinned at him from the tent where the briefing was about to start.

“I hear you needed yourself a white knight,” Jack said, chest puffed out exaggeratingly. 

“Oh, we still waiting on him?” Mac snarked back. Jack plunked into the seat next to him and leaned in.

“Hey now, princess,” he started. Mac’s eyebrows rose incredulously.

“Princess?” Mac said.

“When the shoe fits, buddy,” Jack said.

“My shoes are combat boots, same as yours, Jack.” Mac responded. 

Jack’s CO called their attention and the next 48 hours were, Jack thought, probably better left forgotten. Jack shot three guys in the head, Mac disarmed two bombs pretty much simultaneously, and the army decided you don’t break up a team that works, so that was that.

 

So what if Jack stared at Mac sometimes when he wasn’t looking. They’d been through hell together a few times now, and always came back out again on the other side. Jack had repaid his debt multiple times over but he’d long passed sticking with Mac out of obligation. Working with Mac was a goddamned _delight_.

Look, Jack had worked with a lot of talented dudes. You don’t get as far as he’d gotten in the military without possessing a certain array of skills. But Mac? Mac is a damned miracle. The brain on the kid was unreal. Mac looked at a problem and just found a way to make it work. Given a couple of paperclips and a few spare electronic devices, he probably actually could turn a raven into a writing desk. 

He didn’t ever understand what Mac was doing, but somehow he still found that he understood Mac. He’d learned what that scrunch of his brow meant, what stuff he’d want to grab just by looking at it. He’d learned not to question the what and the how and just trust that if Mac had an idea, it’d get them both out. And Mac had stopped constantly looking up and around, trying to watch his own back. He’d started trusting that if Jack was there, Jack was watching out for him. One time Jack had shot a man directly over Mac’s head when he’d been bent over a device and Mac hadn’t even blinked, like he’d just known Jack would always be there. Working with Mac felt like the best thing he’d ever done. They just worked. 

Which is why it’s kind of a problem that Jack can’t stop _looking_ at him. It’s one thing to sneak a peek at the hot young thing he was only going to see once or twice. But Mac had, against all expectation, become his partner. So Jack’s now got a genuine problem on his hands. Because he couldn’t stop looking delighted every time Mac pulled off a miracle and he didn’t want to. Watching Mac make miracles was the best part of his day. But even if DADT wasn’t still in effect, which it was despite some rumblings that might be changing soon, he still had no idea whether Mac would ever be interested. 

Mac didn’t ever much look at anyone, was the thing. At least not that Jack’s seen. They’ve got women on the base worth a second and a third look, and men, too. But Mac looked at his tech, and Mac looked at Jack, and that was it. Mac had friends, sure. You don’t get through the military without making friends. But more and more, Mac let Jack run his point even outside of combat situations. And Jack, sad bastard that he was, was happy to be whatever Mac wanted him to be. He snarked and he joked and he leaned in close and Mac just made room for him wherever he was. Jack was really starting to feel like he belonged there, in that spot next to Mac. That Mac wanted him there. 

And Jack may not have wanted to risk this thing they had, but Jack was also not cautious by nature. So Jack pushed farther into Mac’s spaces, waiting for Mac to set a boundary, but Mac just kept making room for him. Jack flopped down onto Mac’s bed next to him, and Mac just scooted over and let him stay. Jack leaned directly over Mac’s back to gawk at whatever he’s working on, and Mac moved his head to the side so Jack could see better. Jack fell asleep on Mac’s shoulder during transit and Mac just held him there and made sure he didn’t fall, all while tinkering with his radio. 

It was driving Jack crazy. He was halfway in love with Mac and he knew it. Hell, half the base maybe knew it. He was possessive, territorial. He glared at anyone who checked Mac out. The only one who didn’t seem to know it was Mac. And maybe that was because Mac was the kind of guy who looked at a wall and saw how’d you make a door, or if he couldn’t, just figured out how to blow up the wall, and who treated his own internal walls the same way — as things that could be molded or changed or shaped with the right combination of levers and a little brute force. Maybe Jack was the right combination. He could definitely be the brute force. 

They went on a mission in July with the usual redacted details. Jack was covering Mac as he disarmed an IED. The clock was ticking down — metaphorically, of course, something Jack learned real early was that bombs don’t usually come with a convenient countdown device. Jack’s adrenaline was up, his gun pointed at the door. Mac was twisting and turning the device, cutting pieces and reconnecting others. They were both in their element. 

“You know,” Mac said as he worked, “when we go home we’re gonna have to find a job that feeds your desperate need for adrenaline and violence.”

“Kid, anywhere you are is gonna keep me busy with adrenaline and violence,” Jack said, before he processed that it had been Mac who’d used “we” first and Jack had just basically confirmed he planned to follow Mac wherever he went. But Mac...Mac was thinking about his future, thinking about going home, and assuming Jack would stay with him. 

“Ha!” Mac held up a tube. “Done.”

And Jack thought about a future with Mac, getting to do this with him forever and never telling him and thought, fuck it.

“Hey, Mac,” Jack said, walking decisively over.

Mac looked up, started to respond “Yea—“ but Jack pulled him into a kiss before he could finish. His heart was beating harder than it had facing down enemy combatants because this was Mac and they belonged together but maybe not this way, maybe not to Mac, but he had to try. He pulled back, just enough that he could see Mac’s face.

“Oh,” Mac said quietly, concentrating like he was working out a problem. Jack knew all his faces, including this one. He waited for Mac to process it. 

“You…”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Is that ok?”

And then Mac leaned in slowly and kissed him back, testing. Jack let him but didn’t push. The truth was, even if Mac couldn’t give him this, there still wasn’t anywhere else he’d want to be. He’d love him because he didn’t have much choice, follow him because there’s nowhere else he’d belong quite as perfectly, and wouldn’t have stopped either even if he could. Mac pulled back, a little breathless.

“Yeah, Jack,” he said.

“Yeah?” Jack asked again, just to be sure. Mac quirked his head to the side, smiling.

“Yeah,” Mac said. “But probably we should get out of enemy territory first.” He pulled back, picked up his service piece, and headed to clear the door.

Of course, Jack followed.


End file.
